


svengali

by yusukewritesangst



Category: Bleach
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Physical Abuse, and it did EVERYTHING, huh i can only seem to write sad stuff right now, i got this idea from a tumblr thread where a wizard could only use a spell called "fix this", i wonder why that's why my username is angst, ichigo is a witch, idk what else to tag this so, or having a speaking role at least, so that's my inspiration for this i guess, ugh tagging why, uh i think that's everyone mentioned at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 11:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yusukewritesangst/pseuds/yusukewritesangst
Summary: All Ichigo can taste is ash and blood as he wakes up to the reality of the world around him, but he has to buildsomethingout of the dust his Clan left for him. Start from practically nothing, huh... if you could call generations of conditioning and abusenothing,that was. At least the Shinigami would help, if only because they wanted relations with one of the strongest Witch Clans to be smooth.





	svengali

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh this took absolutely _ages_ to write. About half a year, with on-and-off writing for a month or so at a time. But, hey, this is what I've been working on when I'm not writing for JAM! (Which is my main fic I write for, a KHR x BNHA crossover fic where Hitoshi gets transported into the world of KHR...) I hope y'all like this though, I'm not sure if I'll ever update it... (definitely not anytime _soon,_ but maybe eventually.)

Ichigo took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped forward.

“Aizen,” he said calmly, causing many people to look at him in shock and confusion. Where was the boy who had fire in his eyes and life in his veins? Where was the child who had opposed the Shinigami for a friend? “You picked the wrong family to fuck with.”

He then dropped his Zanpakutō.

Everyone erupted into noise behind him, shocked sound as everyone tried to comprehend what the fuck was going on.

Aizen’s face twisted into an ugly smirk as he gazed down condescendingly at Ichigo. “So you give up, ryoka boy?”

Ichigo ignores him, feeling out for the energy in the Earth, pulsing beneath him steadily as he breathed and  _ concentrated.  _ He brought his hand up, shaping his hand into a gun, and opened his eyes.

“This is for Kā-chan,” he stated loudly and clearly, cutting through all of the shouting and silencing the whole field. “Fix this.”

Nothing happened instantly, and Aizen’s mouth twisted into a sick grin as he opened his mouth, preparing to float over his supposed assured victory—

Then, the Hōgyoku was ripped by an unseen force out of the unsuspecting traitorous Shinigami’s chest with a sickening ‘squelch’ and floated toward Ichigo, hovering in front of his face for a moment.

** _Thank you, young Master._ **

Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head in disagreement. Unsure of whether his normal way of communicating with the energies of nature would work with the Hōgyoku, he instead murmured barely under his breath, “I’m not your Master. You’re free if you wish to be, but my sole request is that you don’t let any egotistical maniacs like Aizen control you ever again.”

** _Very well, then… little Witch. I shall slumber to recuperate the energy which I lost due to the Moth’s attempts at crowning himself King. Should you need me… I am but a thought away._ **

With that, the Hōgyoku slammed into Ichigo’s chest, knocking him backwards a little bit and causing him to stumble as it morphed into him somehow during that.

… Hopefully nobody saw what it did.

(He wasn’t really in the mood for being dissected so the Shinigami could get the Hōgyoku. No siree, that was no fun.)

“What,” he heard someone deadpan from somewhere in the crowd that had formed, “the fuck.”

Ichigo sighed. “If any of you have questions, just hold ‘em. I’m going home.” With that hopefully dealt with, he kicked Aizen’s corpse lightly for making him reveal his secret, turned on his heel, and marched on back to his house.

Of course, many of the Shinigami followed him. Probably to interrogate him.

Ichigo just sighed yet again and directed his path to the kitchen once he entered his house, starting a pot of tea on the stove. He got out the cups and placed them around the table as the Shinigami settled down around it, thankfully accepting the tea as he poured it into their cups.

Well…  _ most _ of them thanked him. He glared the ones who tried to refuse the tea into submission, not accepting no for an answer this time. They entered his house technically without his permission when all he wanted to do was sleep? They got to accept the fucking hospitality he dished out. Therefore,  _ tea. _

Drink up, motherfuckers.

At last, when he was done serving everyone tea, he collapsed into his chair and nearly face planted into his own cup, but he just scowled at all his unwelcome visitors. Eventually, though, someone broke the silence.

“You’re a  _ Witch? _ ” Renji exclaimed loudly, looking close to throwing his hands up in the air.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “as I’ve said before, yeah, I’m a fucking Witch. Get over it!”

Rukia leaned over the table and promptly smacked Ichigo up the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s for not telling us,” she glared at him. She smacked him again, too fast for him to get away from lest he fell over. “And that’s for scaring everyone when you faced Aizen!”

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault you Shinigami are all idiots who thought that I just fucking  _ caved  _ after all this shit!” Ichigo complained, rubbing his head with one hand. He warily eyed Rukia for a moment before deciding that his head was safe for the moment, choosing to continue as he nursed his hot cup of tea. “It was really distracting too, ya know! Your fucking doubts drifted through the damn Air, your hopelessness through the Earth, your anger through your… well, Reiatsu! It’s really hard to center yourself and cast a damn spell when those things are distracting you!”

“If you’re a Witch, and Isshin is a Shinigami, then that means…” Kyōraku trailed off thoughtfully, staring at Ichigo pensively.

“Masaki was a Witch?” Isshin asked quietly, still in his soul form—and wasn’t  _ that  _ a pleasant shock. His supposed  _ parental figure  _ was a fucking Shinigami and didn’t tell him. Asshole deserved not knowing Kā-chan was a Witch.

“Turns out you’re not the only one keeping secrets from the family,” Ichigo responded dryly, not even looking at the damn idiot to see his reaction. He didn’t need to; the Earth told him of his sadness, the Air of his helplessness, and the Sparks—or as the Shinigami called their off-brand flavor, Reiatsu—of his irritation.

At least the guy was only  _ irritated.  _ At least on  _ some  _ level he understood Ichigo’s anger and retorts.

Fucking asshole idiot.

“You paused before you said Reiatsu,” Urahara suddenly chimed in, fan fluttering idly as he changed the subject abruptly with no remorse. “What were you going to say instead?”

Ichigo scowled. “Sparks, the purer, wilder form of what you Shinigami call Reiatsu,” he begrudgingly explained. “It’s the energy of nature: of the Earth, the Air, the Water, the…” he hesitated for a moment, looking down at his hands before continuing, “the… Fire.”

Kā-chan had a preference towards listening to the Fire, drawing her energy and wisdom and calm from its unique signature.

“What are the differences between them?” Yoruichi asked, pausing from grooming herself to listen to this conversation.

Ichigo scoffed. “What are the differences between oil and water?”

Yoruichi was about to respond, but Tōshirō cut in. “Of which energy do you typically draw energy from?”

“You’re probably fire,” Renji snorted, his smirk falling flat when Ichigo just stared down at his hands again. “Oi, what’s got you lookin’ so glum?”

“Water,” he replied to Tōshirō’s question. “I have a preference towards the Waters.” He hesitated, then looked up at Renji. “… Kā-chan generally leaned towards the Fires.”

Rukia smacked Renji on the back of the head soundlessly, glaring at him when he yelped in pain.

“What else can you do?”

Ichigo’s scowl deepened impossibly, glaring murderously at the floor as he tried to ignore the question.

“Yeah,” Renji leaned forwards excitedly, practically falling onto the table in his eagerness, “can you, like, turn people into animals?”

Ichigo just grumbled something under his breath as he refused to look up.

“But why didn’t you use another spell or something when you faced Aizen then?” Renji continued, oblivious to the actual irritation practically emanating from Ichigo. Everyone else looked warily at the two, not really wanting to be involved with whatever shit Renji was dredging up  _ this  _ time.

Ichigo finally cracked, looking up and freezing the redhead across from him with one very annoyed look. “That was the only thing I could do damnit, alright?” he almost shouted, hands curled into fists as he restrained himself from leaping across the table to start a fight. “The only fuckin’ spell I can cast!”

_ (“He’s a failure of a Witch,” Hiroaki-oji-sama hissed to Onē-sama after dinner one night. “How could you even possible  _ dream _ of making him your successor, and the next Head of the Clan!” _

_ “I do believe I did not request your advice on this matter,” Onē-sama merely ignored the question coolly, turning to Obā-sama in the process. “Igarashi-obā-san is the only one I sought and gained approval from in this endeavor. For this, your opinion is  _ useless, _ Hiro-san.” _

_ Ichigo—no,  _ Tsukiko _ was his name in this household—held his tears in and snuck away from the closed door and back through the winding hallways to his room.) _

“That and talk with the energies,” Ichigo muttered mutinously, “which nobody ever really stops to try and do anymore which is just plain  _ stupid. _ ”

Renji tactfully remained silent this time.

“Did you say that you could…” Ukitake trailed off, looking as if he was struggling to find the word, “convene with them? How would you talk with them?”

Ichigo sighed. “It’s… not exactly talking,” he tried to explain. “It’s more like… sensations? Emotions? Images, flashes, feelings, instincts, urges, things like that.”

He saw all the blank looks on everyone’s faces and grumbled to himself. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, then continued more loudly, “I mean, I guess Umiko might help me show you? She might be willing to show one or two, but definitely not all…”

“Umiko?” Rukia asked. “I didn’t know you knew someone named that.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know her,” Ichigo replied. “After all, she’s one of the Water.” He quickly explained after seeing everyone’s blank faces again. “She’s a river.”

“You named a river  _ child of the sea? _ ” Renji asked incredulously.

“ _ You named the river your mom died at? _ ” Rukia exclaimed soon after.

“Yeah?” Ichigo half-stated, half-asked. What was wrong with that? “Umiko has feelings too. We started talking a lot more after Mom’s death because she was literally there to watch the whole thing but couldn’t help? Bonds kinda form from trauma, ya know.”

“ _ A river was traumatized? _ ” Rukia continued, looking as if she was about to rip her hair out from frustration. “How does that  _ work? _ ”

“Oh, Umiko wasn’t traumatized,” Ichigo explained. “She just felt bad for me, and we formed a Bond the more we talked and shared. I mean, our Bond is strong enough that we could pass a few stilted messages back and forth when I was in Soul Society?”

“ _ What the fuck. _ ”

“And what do you typically talk about?” Urahara asked curiously, ignoring how everyone else seemed at least a little bit freaked or startled, eyes glinting forebodingly even though there was no sudden spiking of light in the room to cause them to do so. Ichigo eyed his teacher suspiciously. “Is this friend of yours capable of passing information on to you?”

Ichigo stared at the shopkeeper, who only smiled and brought his fan up to cover part of his face.

The Witch felt like reaching over and snatching the fan from the idiot and using it to whack him upside the face, but settled instead for chugging the rest of his tea like it was a shot of alcohol and pouring himself a new cup.

“Fuck you,” he informed the manipulative Shinigami, before capitulating as he watched some of the others getting antsy without the answer. Oh, most of them  _ looked _ calm, sure, but they couldn’t really hide their Sparks from him, especially with no training. No matter how little Sparks they had, every sentient being had some. They were all of the Earth in some way, after all. “Technically yes, but she would have to  _ get _ that information from somewhere in the first place. So the only thing she would know about Soul Society is from years of Shinigami being… around…”

He paused. “Shit.”

The fan fluttered in the shopkeeper’s grip.

“… Let me ask Umiko how old she is,” Ichigo decided, placing his cup down on the table as he leaned back in the chair. Eyeing the Shinigami before him, he raised an eyebrow at them. “It’s a little bit like talking with your Zanpakutō, so…”

When they just continued watching him creepily, some returning to their tea, he just grumbled halfheartedly to himself and closed his eyes, searching for the Bond between Umiko and him while trying to ignore them.

_ Hesitation? _ he sent down their connection, settling down and awaiting a response from her.

_ Warmth! _ came the almost immediate response.  _ Curiosity. _

He fed an image of the Shinigami sitting around his table to Umiko, continuing with  _ hesitation. Curiosity, hesitation. _ The next part was harder. Getting specific questions across… well. However, he recalled an image of creating an account on some websites, and sent her the image asking for age.

_ Curiosity, shock? Shock, curiosity? The red location pin on Google Maps. _

_ Curiosity, _ Ichigo repeated to her insistently, along with the image of the Shinigami.

_ … Two people shaking hands. The Shinigami sitting around Ichigo’s table. Ichigo sitting next to her river. _

_ Agreeable, _ he nodded, sending an image of Ukitake and Tōshirō down their Bond in question.

_ Acquiescence. Agreeable. _

_ Warmth, _ Ichigo smiled softly, relaxing in his seat even more now that they had gotten the business out of the way.  _ Love. _

_ Warmth, love! Excitement! _

With that, Ichigo slid back into reality, quietly closing the Bond as he did so. He opened his eyes to see practically everyone still staring at him, though Rukia had found a book and was doodling all over it.

“That better not be my Shakespeare,” he warned her, already brainstorming methods of payback if it was. “Or my homework.”

“It isn’t,” she informed him very matter-of-factly, not even glancing up at him.

He deemed that as that, then.

“Alright, Umiko agreed to talk to Ukitake-san and Tōshirō,” Ichigo informed the group. “If you’re willing, that is. She won’t force herself upon anyone.”

… Aaaaaaaand  _ that  _ sounded wrong. Whoops. Well, it was too late to amend his statement anyways, might as well ignore those implications with a stony face.

Both of the Shinigami consented—bad imagery,  _ bad imagery _ —the former in curiosity, the latter in only a little hesitation.

“Alright,” he announced, getting up off his chair, stealing everyone’s cups no matter if they were done or not, scowling at anyone who tried to take the cups back—fuck off, if they didn’t like his  _ hospitality, _ then they shouldn’t have wormed their way into his home in the first place!—and dumping them into the sink, along with the now-empty tea kettle. “I’ll see whichever of you all wanna come tomorrow then. Get the fuck out so I can sleep.”

And, with only a few bitter looks and reprimands of “language,” everyone except Rukia left his house. He just shrugged and left her at the table, going up to his room, changing, and then collapsing into his bed and falling asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

Then waking up to the Shinigami in his room.

“God fucking dammit,” he groaned as he rolled off the bed, shoving his face into the hard and cold floor to try and wake himself up from this nightmare. “What in the actual goddamn Hell.”

“Sorry about this, Ichigo-kun,” Ukitake smiled, not actually sorry in any shape or form.

Ichigo didn’t feel bad at all as he mumbled curses into the floor, wishing he was a good enough Witch to make those curses  _ work _ instead of just being words. “Get out so I can get dressed.”

At least everyone complied with that demand.

(Except Rukia, who dipped into the closet and threw his clothes for the day at him, closing the doors after she did so. Fucking midget.)

He got dressed, knocked on the closet to let her know he was done changing, trudged downstairs, ignored everyone and the food on the table—sorry Yuzu!—and just walked out the door without waiting for anyone. If they wanted to follow, then they would.

(And follow they did.)

Finally arriving at the river, Ichigo kicked off his shoes, threw a quick “wait a moment” over his shoulder, and then dove into the river fully clothed. He ignored all the sounds coming from above as he let the water envelop him, soothing him and drawing his worries away.

_ Amusement. Warmth. Ichigo walking through a door, being hugged by Yuzu and Karin. Laughter and smiles being shared. _

Umiko shifted around him, embracing him in a hug as he laughed in happiness and joy for the first time in months.

“I’m home,” he responded softly, a grin stretching across his lips easily.

Umiko pokes him.  _ Curiosity. Ukitake and Tōshirō standing at her shore. Enjoyment, wishing, anticipation, hesitation. Anger? Fear? Happy? Curious? Both of the Shinigami holding up their Zanpakutō, ready to fight. _ A sharp sting occurred from his right arm, and he sighed slightly.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Ichigo leaned into Umiko more, letting her Water lift him afloat, anchoring him in that spot. “They wouldn’t do that anyways, but I wouldn’t let them regardless.” The water rippled around him slightly as he quickly reigned back in his Sparks, not wanting to alarm the Shinigami watching him from above with the raw energy. “If they wanna touch you, then they’ll have to see just  _ how  _ much damage I can do with a flexible spell only limited by imagination and Sparks supply. Both of which I have in  _ abundance. _ ”

_ Warmth, joy, mirth. Ukitake and Tōshirō both with a hand in her Waters, curiosity, curiosity, curiosity. Mirth, mirth, mirth, mirth! _

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh at me,” Ichigo faux-grumbled under his breath, not even attempting to hide the grin that was stretched across his face.

_ Happiness. Joy. Gratitude. Gratitude! Her Waters hugging Ichigo, her Waters forming a barrier between him and the Shinigami with their Zanpakutōs out, her Waters ripping a Hollow to shreds, her Waters cooking around Ichigo and following him everywhere. Warmth, warmth, warmth, love. Love. Love! _

Ichigo’s grin turned from pure joy and laughter to a softer one, a private one used in the intimacy of family and lovers.

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled. “You got my back, I got yours. Love ya, sis.”

_ Love. _

Ichigo looked up at where everyone else was. “Oi!” he called out, interrupting all the conversations that were occurring over there. He didn’t even bother suppressing the smile on his face, it would be too much work. “Ukitake-san, Tōshirō, you both can come in! You don’t have to come fully in, just, like, stick a hand in here or your feet? Some part of your body that isn’t covered in clothes.”

The two Shinigami glanced at each other for a moment before slipping out of their shoes as well and stepping into the shallower ends of the water. Immediately, Umiko jumped onto the Bond that Ichigo was stretching to cover all three of them to bombard the two unknowns with her form of communication.

_ Various Shinigami talking with Ichigo. Suspicious, tense, worried, anxious. Ichigo turning away, them stabbing him in the back! Suspicious! Suspicious! Angry, frustrated, grieving, hurt! Her Waters surrounding Ichigo, taking him to her, enveloping him in her Waters. Grieving, grieving, grieving… insecure, inadequate, irritated, jealous, nervous— _

“Umiko!” Ichigo interrupted. “I’d never leave you like that!” Honestly, he felt hurt that she would ever believe him to be that cruel… whether living or dead, he would always visit her!

_ Suspicious! Ukitake, leading Ichigo away from her with a smile! Rukia and Renji, distracting him from her by bickering! Tōshirō, chatting with him and interrupting their chats! Suspicious, suspicious, suspicio— _

“I’m sorry,” Ukitake interrupted Umiko this time, recovering admirably quickly from the sudden barrage, “if you feel like we’re stealing Ichigo-kun from you. That was never our intention, we simply wished to get to know him a little better.”

_ Acceptance… suspicion. Annoyed, anxious, ashamed, bitter… acceptance… suspicion… overwhelmed. _

“It’s okay to take your time and think about this,” Ukitake soothed Umiko. “It’s a lot to try and puzzle through, and the Witches haven’t had a very pleasant relation with the Shinigami, so your suspicion is well-founded. Think about it, and hopefully, one day, you may come to trust us.”

Ichigo blinked at Ukitake. Right… he always forgot just how old everyone was. Sheesh, some of them could probably talk their way out of murder for how smooth they can talk!

Umiko curled around Ichigo tightly, squeezing his gut and causing him to wheeze slightly.

“Wanna let up there a lil bit, Nē-chan?” he gasped out. Umiko loosened her grip on him but still held him close to her, guarding him from the other two in her Waters.

“You see each other of a familial relation, then?” Tōshirō asked, finally speaking. Ichigo would’ve forgotten he was there if Umiko didn’t keep bringing him up!

_ Love. Possessive. Love, love, love, love. Love! Proud, determined, love! Envious? Jealousy? Mirth! Taunting, mirth, proud, satisfied. _

Ichigo hid his grin half-heartedly as he looked at both of the Shinigami’s bewildered faces as they tried to decipher what Umiko meant.

“Pardon?” Tōshirō asked.

_ Mirth! Mirth, taunting, mirth! Content, comfortable, proud. _

Ichigo snickered into the palm of his hand as quietly as he could. He saw the smaller Shinigami about to snap at him, but then Umiko continued.

_ Exasperated. Acceptance. Ichigo walking over to Umiko, away from the Shinigami. Proud, determined, love. The Shinigami looking at Ichigo standing with Umiko. Envious? Jealous? Umiko hiding Ichigo away from the Shinigami. Mirth, proud, taunting, satisfied! _

Ichigo could see the moment both of the taichōs understood what Umiko was saying, a metaphorical lightbulb lighting up in their eyes.

“Your bond is certainly one to admire,” Ukitake conceded. “It’s one that many people could only wish to achieve with someone someday.”

Umiko poked Ichigo.  _ Confused. Importance? Non-importance? Self-conscious. _ Her Waters formed two b’s in front of him, one capital and one lowercase.  _ Importance? Non-importance? Sad. Frustrated. _

Oh. Ichigo shook his head. “Ukitake-san’s not talking about the kind of Bond we are,” he explained.

“Kind of bond?” Ukitake asked curiously. Ichigo nodded.

“Yeah. To explain it more easily, there’s the bond with a lowercase b, and that’s the kind of bond when it’s just your friends or most of the time family, or any acquaintances you have. Those are the lower level bonds, no matter how far they range in intensity.”

_ Like, dislike. _

Ichigo shook his head at Umiko’s input. “No,” he disagreed, “you can love someone and not form a Bond with them, the same with hate. Rarely anyone ever forms a Bond with anyone, I’ve only ever heard of Witches doing it thus far. Shinigami might, but I don’t know enough about them to tell.”

_ Indifference. _

“Wow, way to make friends there…” he muttered under his breath before raising his voice to continue the explanation. “A Bond with a capital B is between two or more people who share the same intense emotion for each other. These Bonds form… I guess you could call them a mind link?”

Both of the Shinigami looked shocked before composing themselves in, amusingly, about the same amount of time.

Ichigo hastened to finish the explanation so there was no chance for interruptions. “It’s basically having the same connection that you’re feeling with Umiko right now. You can project your feelings down the Bond, as well as images, whether you see them or imagine them. Sensations, etcetera. All that stuff.” He took a deep breath as he feared himself up for another round of explanation, wanting to do nothing but just sleep in Umiko’s safety. Alas, ‘twas not meant to be. “Today, I just piggybacked you off my Bond with Umiko, that’s why you were able to hear her so clearly. Normally when someone begins to talk with one of the energies, whether it be Water, Earth, Air, Fire, whatever, it’s much more… slow going. The emotions are fuzzy, the images are like a heat daze, and the sensations feel staticy. Only through time can one enhance their speaking skills with certain energies, and only through a Bond will that communication be completely clear.”

Ichigo sighed, glad that they waited to actually listen to all of that without interrupting, no matter how badly they probably wanted to. “Any questions?”

“How do you know if you are in a Bond?” Both of the Shinigami asked at the same time, in complete unison.

… Was that planned?

_ Amusement. Peaceful, secure, optimistic. _

Ichigo just sighed again and let the smile drift back onto his face, preparing himself for another long conversation.

Surprisingly enough, the conversation-slash-interrogation didn’t last for too long. Maybe it lasted long enough for the Shinigami waiting on dry land to get bored just waiting there, but not nearly long enough for Ichigo’s skin to get all pruned. Though… he  _ did _ take a much significantly longer time for his skin to get pruned than the average person. Probably due to the fact he hung out with Umiko so often… but he remembered it being this way even before his mom died, so…?

Anyway, they soon finished, and Ichigo shook his head like a dog and sprayed water on everyone as he got out of the river, causing them all to grumble in irritation. He just laughed and grinned, already walking back home. He didn’t  _ care _ how out of character this was for him: he finally had some downtime, they were out of the war, and he could visit Umiko without any stress weighing on him too heavily!

“Does speaking with that river really cheer you up that much?” Rukia asked curiously.

“Yeah!” Ichigo nodded, resisting the urge to twirl around and act like a child on a sugar high. “A Bond is hard to explain, but it’s not only just being able to talk with one another whenever or wherever. It’s…” he trailed off, his vibrant grin softening to a warm smile as he pondered how to phrase the feeling. “It’s not  _ warm _ persay, but it’s not  _ cold _ either. It’s… it’s a feeling of  _ completeness, _ that revitalizing energy, a person you know you can always rest with and trust… one who always has your back no matter what. You can trust them with  _ everything: _ your body, your mind, your soul, your powers.” Ichigo looked at the sky as he thought some more. “That’s… really, it’s an indescribable feeling, one that no matter how hard you try to put it to words, it feels like the right ones are  _ just _ barely out of your reach, there but not quite. Like… they complete you, but at the same time they’re an  _ extension _ of you. Two peas in a pod, one of the same package, the pieces that complete each other’s puzzle.”

“That’s…” Rukia breathes out quietly in the silence after Ichigo’s impromptu lesson.

“Can you tell when two people are in a Bond?” Renji asked, ignoring the quiet contemplation that he completely interrupted others having.

“If you look hard enough and know the signs, yeah,” Ichigo nodded. “Some of the signs are easy to miss and others can be easily repressed if the person really tries, but once you have a few years or so of practice and learning about Bonds… especially being in one  _ yourself, _ it’s pretty easy to spot one.”

“Do you know of anyone else who’s in a Bond personally?” Tōshirō interjected.

_ Shocked! _ Umiko exclaimed, a little quieter from when Ichigo had been in her Waters to directly talk with her, but still very understandable.  _ Disdain, anger, disgust! Stupid, shocked! Shocked! Ashamed. _

Ichigo raised an eyebrow in agreement with Umiko, and turned around, abruptly stopping as the smile fell right off his face. He stared at the small Shinigami for a moment before finally saying something.

“A Bond is really personal,” he started softly, “and not something to be publicized to every single person you come across. If someone wishes to tell you that they are in a Bond with someone else, then great. Wonderful. Fantastic.” His face started to drop into the scowl that was normal for all Shinigami to see on his face as his displeasure with Tōshirō’s question became known very well. “ _ Don’t tell anyone else without their permission. _ ”

Ichigo turned around smartly, squared his shoulders stiffly, and began walking home once more. A little while later, he broke the quiet again with a much calmer, smaller voice.

“It’s one thing to recognize who’s in a Bond with who,” he said, looking at the ground, resisting the urge to drag his feet. “If you know someone that well to be able to see the extent of their relationships with another, then you have to understand them and their behavior very well.”

After a beat of silence too long, he continued, not able to take the dreary atmosphere for much longer than necessary.

“To know a person to that extent and still reveal their Bond to everyone who may attempt to exploit it to hurt them... that would be a betrayal of one of the worst kinds,” Ichigo finished.

He let that sink in before he continued. “And if they  _ tell _ you of their Bond, then if you tell others without  _ explicit permission,  _ then you’re betraying their trust by risking their lives and sanities.”

“… how so?” Rukia asked quietly, almost hesitantly.

“In a Bond, all those feelings come from your souls being intertwined,” he replied bluntly instead of trying to ease his way into it.

There was silence for a beat.

“What?” Renji shouted. “How the Hell does  _ that _ work? How do you just  _ tie _ your soul to another persons? What the fuck?”

“But wouldn’t that be the same as a soulmate, or your soul partner?” Ukitake asked curiously, confused about the difference between the two.

“I don’t exactly know what about soulmates is fact and what is fiction, but from what I know, soulmates are two people who complete each other without even having met one another beforehand,” Ichigo explained. “They’re pre-destined for one another from birth, and they will always find each other through reincarnations or something. They’re always in a romantic relationship with each other. Again, dunno what’s fact and what’s fiction. Bonds on the other hand are… while they are akin to soulmates, they are forged by the people over time, patience, and interaction. They get broken when one dies, and will hurt the other who survived very badly. Bonds can be between more than two people, you can have more than one Bond, and they break upon death, refreshing to start over anew in a new life.”

Ichigo sighed as he stopped right in front of the door to his house, having finished just as he reached the doorstep.

“Fuck, I just wanna go back to Umiko…” he muttered under his breath before swinging open the door, quickly ducking under his idiot dad who came sailing towards his face. Renji got hit instead.

“My wonderful son, I have nothing left to teach you!” Goat-face wailed melodramatically, fake tears streaming down his face. Everyone ignored the curses that Renji spat out, muffled from under Ichigo’s idiot sperm donor.

(Oh wait, that might’ve been a little harsh… oh whatever, it wasn’t like Isshin could hear what Ichigo was thinking about. Unless Urahara made some device for that.

…

Whatever.)

They just followed Ichigo up to his room.

(Oh God, his room… it had been a hectic two days.  _ Two days. _ Goddamn.)

He barely sat down on his bed before, suddenly, a high-pitched ‘ping’ came from the closed journal on his desk, and Ichigo sighed. Dammit, why couldn’t today just  _ end? _

“What was that sound?” Rukia asked, looking at the area of the room where it had come from.

Everyone watched Ichigo as he trudged over to the desk and snatched the bookmark out of the small, brown book on it.

_ Visit in two days, _ it read.  _ Clan too. Want to meet you, next Head of Clan. Meeting by Nē-sama, no Umiko. Love ya, Tsukiko-chan~! _

Ichigo grimaced as he read that name, already reaching for a pen and paper to write a scathing note back when the ‘ping’ happened again.

He just grumbled and grabbed the other bookmark that slipped out of the book like magic—pun intended.

_ Know you hate that name! No grumbling. Clan will call you variations: Tsukiko-sama, Tsukiko-onī-sama, rarely Tsukiko-san. Suck it up, Tsuki-chan! _

His eye twitched as he stared at the bookmark, letting it drop on the desk as he plopped down on the chair. Preparing to write back and explain the circumstances, he grabbed a pencil and opened the book to a random page.

“The fuck was that?” Renji exclaimed from somewhere behind him, confused. Oh, yeah. He almost forgot the Shinigami were in his room  _ with _ him at the moment.

Ichigo sighed and dropped his face onto the desk with a loud ‘thud’! “That was Shiori-Saori-onē-sama,” he mumbled into the desk, not really wanting to explain at the moment. “She’s a Witch as well an’ she’s gonna bring the rest of the Clan here to meet me.” He was silent for a beat, but then his head shot up off the desk as he stared horrified at the wall.

“That means I have to fucking wear  _ formal _ attire and act all  _ Clan Head-y _ and shit!” he whined pathetically, already dreading what was to come.

(He almost seriously contemplated boarding himself inside and hiding from Onē-sama and Obā-sama the whole time they were here, but he quickly discarded that idea. He couldn’t leave them alone to deal with the other Elders, especially Hiroaki-oji-sama. That man was just… anyway. Plus, he had to keep their reputation within the Clan up to snuff. Onē-sama chose him as her successor and Obā-sama supported her, so if he didn’t measure up, their judgement would be called into question.)

“Wait, wait, wait,  _ Clan Head? _ ” Rukia demanded an answer, grabbing the pencil from Ichigo’s hand so he couldn’t write an answer and just ignore their questions. “Elaborate, fool.”

Ichigo glanced at the small stapler on the edge of his desk and wondered how many staples it would take directly to his face to kill himself and at least temporarily halt this interrogation.

(Infinite. The answer was infinite. Because no matter how many staples he put in himself, he’d probably live anyway. And if he  _ did _ die, that wouldn’t end this Hell. The Shinigami would still demand answers even when he was hovering over his own dead corpse as a newly-minted ghost.

_ Goddammit. _ )

“I’m the next Clan Head after Shiori-Saori-onē-sama,” Ichigo reluctantly answered, swiveling around to scowl at Rukia and calculate whether or not he could get his pencil back if he pounced on her. “Probably won’t inherit for a while since she’s still very alive and kicking, but she’s been pushing my training and etiquette and shit up for some reason—same with Obā-sama.” He shrugged, hoping that was good enough of an answer.

Evidently, it was, as Rukia held out his pencil to him begrudgingly.

Ichigo just grumbled as he snatched the pencil back to begin to write to Onē-sama. Finally, now that the basic explanations and interrogations were out of the way, he could fucking respond.

_ Am Sub Shin now. Friends with some Shin, acquaintances with all taichō. Shin know am Witch; now am next Clan Head. Want to go to meeting. _ He quickly closed the book, sending the note, and then opened it to write another one as quickly as he could.  _ What in the everlasting five stages of Witherification were you thinking when inviting the Clan? Not enough room here! Where to stay? Not with Obā-sama: no room! No room here! Dumb Onē-sama! _

The journal almost instantly chimed again.  _ Not dumb! Tomorrow. _

Ichigo sighed and wrote a simple affirmative in response, turning to the Shinigami left in his room. “I have to go meet with Onē-sama tomorrow, and the rest of the Clan.”

“If you don’t mind, we will come with you as well,” Ukitake faux-suggested. Ichigo knew he had no choice in this. It was all an illusion.

“Yeah,” he agreed defeatedly, throwing himself face-first onto his bed and tried to suffocate himself in the pillows to get unconscious faster and just stop dealing with them. It wasn’t even afternoon yet and he was wondering if all Shinigami turned to alcoholism in the end.

Thankfully, they left—even Rukia this time!—and he had the rest of the day to himself.

Score!

(He spent it doing homework and reading.)

The next day, he actually ate breakfast and left without waiting for the Shinigami to appear, knowing that they would probably find him in the end regardless. Halfway through his walk, he was proven correct as they landed next to him. He resolutely ignored them and continued walking.

At last, they reached Onē-sama’s house. Well…  _ house. _ Kind of a… well, not a  _ mansion, _ but not a mere house. A weird in-between thing. In the woods.

Ichigo knocked on the door and awaited his fate.

The door opened, and Onē-sama whacked Ichigo upside the head once she got close enough. “Don’t backtalk your superiors,” she scolded him, glaring him into submission easily.

“Fine…” he grumbled under his breath, not daring to look at his friends or the other Shinigami who were no doubt gawking at the display in front of them.

“What did you say?” she demanded as she ushered them all into the house.

“Understood, Shiori-Saori-onē-sama,” Ichigo uttered dutifully, stopping in the foyer.

“Good,” she nodded decisively, then turned to the people behind Ichigo. She bowed to the Shinigami, and Ichigo easily fell in behind her and to her right. “I would like to formally apologize for any misunderstandings or inconveniences of which Tsukiko- _ tan— _ ” Ichigo twitched at this, but otherwise kept his eyes trained on the floor, ignoring everyone’s reactions, “may have brought upon you and your…  _ kind. _ ”

Silence fell as everyone tried to process that. Ichigo refused to raise his eyes, already feeling the burning stairs of everyone opposite of him, confused and curious as to what was happening.

“Tsukiko- _ tan _ here would like to make a formal apology,” Onē-sama pointedly said, all but directly addressing Ichigo himself. He wanted to rage in embarrassment and frustration over both the demeaning honorific and the fact that he had to apologize to the Shinigami after winning a  _ war _ for them, but he simply sucked it up and blanked his face carefully.

He stepped forward and bowed as deeply as he could without outright entering dogeza, simply holding the bow as he spoke, not daring to look at anyone nor exit the bow.

“My apologies are extended towards all whom I may have wronged,” he said mechanically, almost robotically, letting the formal words flow from his mouth as if he was reading them from a textbook. “It would be kind of you to not let these actions be reflected upon the Clan of Igarashi, as I was acting outside of the Clan’s supervision and jurisdiction.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and took a breath. Why was Onē-sama making him do this? It wasn’t like he had to repay them for saving Rukia and  _ exposing a traitor to them. _ … Onē-sama probably just wanted to cover all possible holes and make sure that they can’t harm the Clan justifiably.

A light cough reminded Ichigo that Onē-sama was still waiting for him to finish. “My choice was my own, and I alone should be the one to suffer the punishments and reparations needed to right these wrongs. Any issues should be sent to me, as the Clan was outside of this issue, with me being the one who has caused such problems.” Ichigo dared not to straighten up out of the bow, deathly afraid of what Onē-sama would have him do if he screwed this up. “My sincerest hopes that these wrongs can be righted are offered alongside this heartfelt apology.”

Honestly, everyone could tell that his heart wasn’t in it. Ichigo was just going through the motions: humiliating himself and offering himself as the scapegoat. The usual.

He kept his face unnaturally blank even as his side twinged in pain from holding such a low bow for so long. He still wasn’t completely healed from the War, but Onē-sama would no doubt do  _ much _ worse if he didn’t do this right the first time.

(If not her, then the  _ Elders. _ )

Eventually, someone must’ve murmured some response he didn’t hear, as Onē-sama urged him to stand back straight up. He bit off a cry as she nudged his side too harshly, but evidently he didn’t do it completely, as Onē-sama immediately started panicking.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured!” Onē-sama yelped, ushering Ichigo to take a seat. “I would’ve had you apologize another way if you told me!”

“Understood, Shiori-Saori-onē-sama,” Ichigo mumbled as she fussed over him, everyone staring at them.

“You don’t have to say that every time, you know,” Onē-sama paused in her examination of him, looking up at him as he mumbled again.

“Understood, Shiori-Saori-onē-sama.”

Onē-sama poked him in the forehead as some select Shinigami in the background were starting to snicker. “Tsu~ki~ko~chan~,” she whined immaturely, pouting at him as Ichigo just blankly stared back at her. “Say something else!”

“Understood, Shiori-Saori-onē-sama,” he replied again, fighting to keep any facial expressions off his face. It was actually fun, frustrating Onē-sama by being formal and actually as polite as the Advisors and Elders wished he was. Two birds with one stone, right?

Onē-sama suddenly grinned, making Ichigo immediately wary. Her hand darted at his neck quickly, causing him to roll off and under the couch with a loud ‘thud’… somehow fitting under the furniture even though it was so tight a cat might have trouble getting under there.

“You alright under there, Tsuki-chan?” Onē-sama asked somewhat concernedly from above him. He thought for a moment, then decided that he wouldn’t keep annoying her with the exact same phrase over and over again.

“Yes, Shiori-Saori-onē-sama,” Ichigo responded, his voice coming out a little strained as he tried not to move and accidentally impale himself on some piece of wood.

Onē-sama groaned in frustration. “Don’t keep calling me that!”

“Understood, Shiori-Saori-ohime-sama.”

“Did the Elders put you up to this?” Onē-sama asked suddenly. Ichigo blinked.  _ Of course _ she would figure that out. “Well, either way, stop it. We’re not at a formal convention, you don’t have to be formal right now, Tsu—…  _ Ichigo _ -chan.”

Her calling him by his birth name is what really got his attention. He quickly slithered his way out of under the couch and blinked up at her owlishly. “Alright, Onē-sama.”

“Igarashi-obā-san is in the other room,” Onē-sama informed Ichigo helpfully, already stepping out of the room to do whatever Clan Head-y thing she had to do. “I don’t advise keeping her waiting to meet our guests.”

Ichigo resisted the urge to roll back under the couch and stood up, brushing the dust off of him as he marched on into the other room, the Shinigami curiously following behind him. They were being… surprisingly quiet. Maybe out of respect? Or maybe they were still shocked at seeing Ichigo act compliant and respectful.

Well… Obā-sama wouldn’t like that.

Nonetheless, he entered the room and stopped before Obā-sama, bowing deeply to her even though she was still sitting. She smacked Ichigo upside the head even in his bow.

“Straighten up,” she grumbled. Ichigo hurried to do so fast enough to satisfy her, knowing that she had to put on a display for the outsiders: the Shinigami.

With a quick flick of her wrist and a loud ‘crack’, Ichigo’s index finger was at the wrong angle, bent in an unnatural direction. He barely twitched, but he could hear the muffled gasps from the Shinigami across the room.

They didn’t understand why this had to be done. The Shinigami didn’t know the Witches way, didn’t  _ understand _ their way; they  _ couldn’t, _ because they weren’t born with this understanding drilled into them. Sure, they could come to accept and comprehend it a little over the years, but it just wasn’t the same as being born and raised on it, breathing and living it.

Ichigo himself wasn’t exactly born into this way—no, his mom had abandoned this when she left to marry his dad. However, she still raised and taught him how she was raised and taught: with love, but most importantly, with respect engraved into him.

And lately, his spirit for freedom had been interfering with his respect, no matter how much he disliked those he would be forced to bow to.

Thus, an example had to be made.

“No healing that,” Obā-sama grumbled at him, her eyes wishing him luck and expressing regret in this action. Though her voice was rough and unfeeling, he knew that she didn’t really want to do this; heck, if the  _ Shinigami _ weren’t here, they would’ve thrown a party for Ichigo’s success!

All he could do was bow his head and mutter a quiet acknowledgment, then shuffle back over to the side where the Shinigami stood. Most of them were standing there shocked, concerned, and worried. Ichigo could see that half of them wanted to check if he was okay, to heal his injuries, but Obā-sama had forbidden that. He just led them out into the hallway quietly, refusing to look over at them as he did so.

“Why would you let them do that!” Rukia hissed the instant they were out of the meeting room, a little ways away from the rest of the Clan. Ichigo was leading them to the guest quarters.

“Do what?” he bullshitted, faking confusion half-heartedly. Nobody was convinced.

“That!” Renji exclaimed, gesturing violently in the direction of Ichigo’s broken finger, still twisted at an odd angle.

“Oh, this?” Ichigo raised his hand, examining it to see if he could reset it himself or if he needed to go to the Clan Healer. Just because Obā-sama has forbidden healing it outright didn’t mean that he couldn’t  _ treat _ it and let it heal naturally. “This is nothing. It’s one of the easier punishments we have.”

“Easier?” Unohana asked quietly. Ichigo didn’t dare look at her expression—her voice was scary enough as it is.

“Yeah,” Ichigo nodded. “The harsher ones are…” he hesitated, trying to phrase it in a way that wasn’t  _ too _ alarming. “Well… they’re not fun.”

“What are some of these  _ harsher methods? _ ” Tōshirō asked bluntly.

Ichigo winced. Some of the methods brought up bad memories. “Well…” he decided to get it over with quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. “Waterboarding was banned after Hana got so sick she died; isolation for prolonged periods was banned after Yuki-oji-san went crazy from it; re-breaking bones too often was banned after… after I had to have surgery on my left hand; humiliation is one of the lightest ones, below physical reprimand, and has not been banned; occasional servitude is above humiliation but below physical reprimand; servicing others is one of the harshest and is—”

“What the fuck?!” Renji finally exploded, interrupting Ichigo’s listing. “Most of those are fucking  _ illegal! _ ”

Ichigo shrugged. “Not here,” he said idly, glancing at the white halls that turned to beige as they rounded another corner. “We have a contract. As long as it’s not life threatening, the Clan holds the right to punish their members as they please.”

“But children should not be treated that way,” Ukitake said quietly. “Being harmed like that is abuse.”

“But physical reprimanding doesn’t start until you’re at least thirteen,” Ichigo argued, bulldozing over the dreaded word, acting like he hadn’t even heard it in the first place.

Because it wasn’t true.

(Because it  _ couldn’t  _ be true.)

“There’s also mental harm,” Unohana responded almost calmly. Ichigo still refused to look in her direction for as long as he could.

“Children should only have to clean up their own mess,” Ukitake explained, “apologize to others, and possibly be put in time-out for a short period of time.”

Ichigo cocked his head slightly. “But we have those things,” he said, confused. “Our isolation is time-out; our servitude and servicing is cleaning up your own mess; our humiliation is our own apologizing.”

How come they didn’t understand? Sometimes you had to be more heavy-handed, especially with children such as these, who were born with their powers. They weren’t like Shinigami, who unlocked their Zanpakutō with practice and patience—Witches had their powers from birth, and either had to learn to suppress them if too powerful, or increase them if too weak.

Ichigo could feel the pitying and concerned looks directed at him, so he just scowled and sped up slightly. None of the Elders nor Obā-sama or Onē-sama were there to scold and punish him for being uncourteous, so he simply ignored all other attempts at conversation.

“Here are your rooms,” Ichigo gritted out as he gestured to the five rooms in the hall. “You shall have to share a room with a few others; all of you may divide the space up in between each of you.” He quickly bowed. “I trust that you shall need nobody to oversee this activity with you, so I believe I shall make my leave. It has been a  _ pleasure. _ ”

With that, Ichigo quickly straightened up and walked away, pretending to not hear anyone calling after him. He went like this all the way to his room, closing the door lightly behind him as he slumped to the floor with a sigh.

_ Fuck, _ he really wanted to talk with Umiko right now. But Onē-sama had said not to—that doing so would disrespect their guests by not paying as much attention as they could to them.

He knew that was a bullshit reason. Onē-sama just didn’t want Umiko to be concerned, as she was always very protective of Ichigo.

… And she didn’t really like a lot of the Witches ways.

Fuck it. Screw Onē-sama—he had never really listened to all of her orders before anyway. Plus, he was the Heir, soon-to-be-Head, and she would be beneath him one day.

Well, didn’t mean he was superior to her, rank didn’t really matter in most things. Plus, pulling rank always pissed Ichigo off and left a bad taste in his mouth. Rank didn’t always mean skill; and he always prized skill over rank, as he thought you had to  _ earn _ your rank.

He was still going to talk with Umiko though.

Ichigo reached out slightly and tapped on the Bond between them, causing a flood of emotions and sensations to overcome Ichigo the instant he released the sealing Onē-sama had done to their Bond.

_ Concern! Relief! ConcernReliefQuestioningAngerIrritatedScaredResentfulDisgustedBitterLoneluTenseTerrifiedTrappedWorriedUncomfortableFoolishFrustratedFuriousDisdain! ... Relief. ReliefReliefReliefReliefReliefReliefRelief! R. E. L. I. E. F. _

Ichigo winced and massaged his temples, careful to only do so with the hand which had not been injured.

_ Ashamed. Cornered, hesitant, resistant. _ He sighed and conjured up an image of Onē-sama, pushing it down their Bond.  _ Insistent. Violated, sad... regretful. Regretful! Regre— _

_ Love! _ Umiko interjected forcefully, interrupting Ichigo’s attempts of apology.  _ Love! Proud! Content! _ She pushed back the image of Onē-sama, then continued.  _ Suspicious, bitter, resentful. _

Ichigo rested his head against the door and winced as another shot of pain ran up his arm, originating from his broken finger. It wasn’t as painful as any of the other injuries he had received from the War, but it was an incessant, non-stop annoyance.

_ Regret, _ he repeated once again to Umiko, standing up.  _ Love, hopeful, relieved. _ He sent a quick image of him bowing before leaving his room, closing the Bond  _ properly _ this time instead of whatever shit Onē-sama had done.  _ Amateur. _

If he wanted to have his finger reset, then he would have to do it soon, or else dinner would interrupt it. But first, he got dressed into the formal wear for dinner—a black kimono, hakama, tabi and socks, and a haori with his Clan’s crest on it.

With that, he set out to find the Clan Healer.

“And what did you do to yourself this time, Tsukiko-sama?” Itsuki asked exasperatedly as he looked up to see Ichigo shuffle into his clinic-like room.

“Brought in some Shinigami,” Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly, playing it off. “Obā-sama had to make an example of me to show that the rules couldn’t be broken without repercussions.”

The Healer didn’t respond, but Ichigo clearly saw his face scrunch up a little in  _ something _ before smoothing out once more as he ushered his patient into one of the beds. He puttered around the room for a few minutes in relative silence, muttering to himself as he did so. Ichigo just laid down and set his hands by his sides and waited.

“She said no healing,” Ichigo announced suddenly into the quiet room, “but not no treating.”

“I’ll have to put you out for this,” Itsuki warned the young Witch, but Ichigo only nodded. The Healer sighed and waved his fingers over Ichigo’s eyes, and the Substitute Shinigami drifted off into the darkness.

When he awoke, his finger was encased in a thick cast-like thing, and his mouth was numb.

“You’re really going to turn everything on its head when you become the Clan Head,” Itsuki was murmuring from his bedside as Ichigo blinked blearily at him, confused at where this was coming from. “I can’t wait to see it all happen…”

Slightly weirded out, Ichigo thanked the Healer and escaped the room the instant he could stand.

Checking the time, he swore under his breath as he realized that he had to get to the Shinigami’s room to collect them for dinner. So he rushed over there as quickly as he could without running, but when he reached to knock, he froze, his hand hovering right over the door. They were talking about him;  _ everyone _ was in that room, having a  _ meeting _ about  _ him. _

“… why won’t he understand that!” Rukia exclaimed, distress evident in her tone of voice. Ichigo was confused. Why wouldn’t he understand what?

“Abuse cases aren’t often that straightforward,” Unohana explained, voice a tad bit stiff. “Oftentimes, victims try to protect their abusers, shifting the blame elsewhere, especially if they’ve been raised on that mentality.”

… Abuse…?

He accidentally let his Sparks flare, breaking out of his tight hold. Immediately, the room went quiet.  _ Fucking jerks. _

Ichigo knocked firmly, schooling his face into the most blank expression that he could make, posture perfectly straight while still angling his head slightly downwards, deferring to the authority of the Shinigami, all who were older than him.

The door opened, and there stood Ukitake. Huh. They probably wanted someone with manners and knew how to contain their temper to open the door. Smart move,  _ for once. _

“I am to be your guide to dinner,” Ichigo said blankly, eyes gazing past the Shinigami in front of him to stare steadily at the wall. “If the Shinigami-sama are to have any questions, I am permitted to answer a choice few. Any other concerns are to be directed towards Igarashi-obā-sama or one of our many Elders.”

Without waiting for a response, Ichigo turned around and walked back down the hall, ignoring all the commotion happening behind him as everyone scrambled to go after him.

“Oi, Ichigo!” Renji called out.

“I am not to be called by that name in this household,” Ichigo replied dutifully, ignoring the twinge of pain in his chest at disregarding the name his mother had given him.

“What else would we call you!” the redhead exclaimed.

“The name I was gifted is Tsukiko,” Ichigo responded blankly. “As the Shinigami-sama are all higher in rank, and  _ guests _ on top of that, you may refer to me as any of the many honorifics you may wish to attach to my name.”

“And if we wish to call you by your given name?” Tōshirō challenged suddenly. Ichigo wasn’t expecting  _ him _ to be the one to ask that question.

“My given name is Tsukiko. I am not to be referred to by that other name in this household,” Ichigo repeated almost painfully. “Any actions towards breaking the rules are… ill advised.”

Ichigo honestly hoped that they would get that hint. Not for his sake, but for  _ theirs. _ Yes, they were dumb. Yes, they were nosey. Yes, they didn’t understand the Witches culture or punishments. But that didn’t mean that Ichigo was going to let them  _ suffer, _ even if they wouldn’t be the one punished for any breaking of the rules.

There were soft sounds of shock and comprehension behind him as most of the Shinigami understood what he was saying. They quietly explained to the ones who didn’t, and Ichigo politely ignored those explanations as if they weren’t happening.

“Why the Hell are you being so stiff and formal, though?” Renji complained. Jeez,  _ Renji _ was the one bringing up all the annoying topics. What the fuck, dude?

“The Shinigami-sama are higher than me in rank,” Ichigo answered calmly, no matter how much he wanted to scream and run away to Umiko and hide. “Therefore, I must defer to them as a lesser being.”

An almost awkward pause hovered over the group for a little while—it would be awkward for Ichigo were it not for the fact that he was immensely grateful for it, desperate for their questions and prying to  _ end _ so they could just listen and  _ understand _ what he was telling him.

At last, they entered the dining hall to see some other Shinigami seated there as well as Obā-sama and Onē-sama. Ichigo quietly referred the Shinigami he was escorting to their seats, and then silently took his own, his head bowed slightly as the food was served.

Everything was silent apart from the sound of people eating for minutes on end. Ichigo could tell some of them were getting impatient, but he didn’t dare speak up for fear that Obā-sama would take offense to that and harm relations with the Shinigami even more. It would be best for him to just remain silent for now and hope everything got better.

“Why are the punishments so… barbaric?”

Ichigo tensed up in his seat and lowered his head.  _ Fuck. _ They couldn’t just keep their damn mouths shut, could they? Not for one  _ damn _ meal?

“Tsukiko,” Obā-sama barked at him, immediately causing him to rise and walk over to her. The half of the Shinigami who had already witnessed one punishment were almost half out of their seats to stop him; the other half just watched on in curiosity and confusion.

Obā-sama held out a hand, and Ichigo offered her his hand which she had already injured.

“The other one,” she said clearly, shaking her head. Ichigo quickly rectified his mistake.

A loud ‘snap’ echoed throughout the silent room, Ichigo’s arm dropping limply to his side when Obā-sama released it.

The rest of the Shinigami then understood why the others were so reluctant to let Ichigo go up there; even the Sōtaichō, who had not witnessed the Witches particular brand of punishment yet, had opened his eyes out of shock for a second before settling back down.

“Why did you punish  _ him! _ ” Renji immediately shouted.

As a response, Obā-sama took Ichigo’s hand with only one broken finger and added to the number with another ‘snap’. The Shinigami quieted down quickly.

Ichigo just stood there with a blank face. Why couldn’t they just stop asking questions for now? Didn’t they understand by now? Surely they weren’t  _ that _ dumb! They were put under  _ his _ jurisdiction, so of course Obā-sama would punish him for what they did.

“Obviously Tsukiko did not educate you well enough, or even answer any questions you would have for him, if you chose to ask me  _ those _ questions,” Obā-sama replied easily. She still held Ichigo’s mangled hand, letting the other arm dangle by his shoulder, the arm at an unnatural angle to match the opposite fingers.

Nobody said a thing.

“Thank you, Tsukiko,” she patted his hand slightly, careful not to jar his fingers too much. “You may return to your seat.”

“Understood, Igarashi-obā-sama,” he bowed deeply before heading back to his seat, not wanting to look at all of the Shinigami’s faces.

… They just didn’t understand.

Ichigo’s fingers sparked with pain as he forced himself to eat with that hand, seeing as his other arm couldn’t even move at the moment. The room was silent, and almost everyone’s eyes were on the Substitute Shinigami. It was a little uncomfortable, but he would suffer through it just the same as all of his other punishments.

Though Ichigo should do something about the tense environment.

“Igarashi-obā-sama?” he asked politely, placing his chopsticks to the side. He saw many weird expressions on the Shinigami’s faces at him being respectful and even  _ submissive, _ but he paid them no mind. What he was about to ask for next may either allow this stupid posturing to end, or ramp up his punishment a few notches.

“Yes, Tsukiko?”

Ichigo’s eye twitched at the name, but he otherwise didn’t react. “Permission to stop this dick-measuring contest? It gets real annoying after a while,” he complained.

The hall returned to silence after he broke formality, but Ichigo wasn’t too worried. Obā-sama would only kick the punishment up to isolation or servicing if she disagreed. Isolation wasn’t too bad once you got to know the system better; since the Witches knew the harm it could do long-term, it was just a more severe method of time-out, and only for a few hours. Servicing… well, you would just have to fulfill the demands of whoever you were assigned to, just as if you were a maid or what-not. Easy and simple.

Obā-sama sighed. “Come up here, Tsuki.”

Ichigo instantly rose and walked up, posture a lot more lax than last time. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see several of his friends fighting to stand up and stop him, but they were being held down by others.

Well, he appreciated their concern, but everything was going to have a turn for the better now. Or he hoped.

(She  _ had _ called him  _ Tsuki _ this time, after all. Dropping formalities a bit—hopefully that meant the pissing contest was gonna end, and not that she was about to toss him in the Room for three hours or so.

He usually spent his time in the Room meditating or sleeping, anyway. Or talking to Umiko, since their Bond was so strong and  _ usually _ the Clan didn’t have anyone on hand who could properly block that Bond.

…

Usually.)

“Do you trust them?” Obā-sama asked, both of them ignoring all the eyes watching them.

“Yeah,” Ichigo responded simply.

Obā-sama waved her hand, and without words, Ichigo’s bones popped back into place, stitching together painfully.

“Sheesh!” Ichigo yelped, cradling his mended hand to his chest with his now-fixed arm. “You couldn’t’ve been more gentle, huh?!”

“Oh, go sit down, you brat,” Obā-sama huffed, waving him off with one hand as she returned to her meal. “You may be the next Clan Head, but I’m still above you.”

Ichigo grumbled as he took a seat, stabbing his food petulantly with his chopsticks. “You old bat, you’ll probably be the first one to go out of all the Elders!”

“And then who would be there to kick your ass into gear?” Obā-sama glared back from across the table.

“Some of my friends who aren’t pathetic and resort to a stupid pissing contest to intimidate possible allies!” Ichigo shouted back.

Ah, this was  _ much _ better already. Fucking  _ finally. _

“Oh yeah,” Obā-sama sounded. “Speaking of old-as-dust people, how the Hell’d you break into  _ Soul Society _ of all places? And then make  _ friends _ with the idiots?”

“Yeah!” Nē-sama called out, looking tempted to throw her bread at Ichigo’s head. “Where the fuck do you keep your magical friend-making fairy dust or some shit like that?!”

“It’s called being a good person,” Ichigo snorted carelessly.

“I didn’t know that  _ being a good person _ was on par with magic,” Nē-sama snarked back easily. “But maybe it’s better than  _ your _ magic, after all, so that’s why you’re able to do it!”

Ichigo refused to let how much that hurt him show on his face. Instead, he changed the topic.

“That was a real shitty move though,” Ichigo complained loudly to his family, “what with you not even allowing me to tell them about what was going to happen!”

“We had to make sure they weren’t dangerous to the Clan,” Obā-sama rolled her eyes, explaining that for what probably felt like the millionth time.

“Only the best can be friends with our Tsuki-chan, after all!” Nē-sama chirped, flicking some rice across the table at him.

“What?” Renji gaped, thankfully with no food in his mouth. “So… everything you told us was a lie? Dramatized!”

“No,” Ichigo shook his head exasperatedly. “That was all correct info, no exaggerations or lies.”

“Even the punishments?” Unohana asked softly,  _ dangerously. _

Ichigo just nodded again, slowly, infinitely more cautious this time.

“Is there a problem with how our Clan is run?” Obā-sama questioned tersely, hands folded on the table as she turned her gaze from Ichigo to the Shinigami. “Because if there is, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“The way we’ve seen you treat Ichigo-kun is abuse,” Kyōraku bluntly stated. Ichigo immediately shook his head, not believing that they all kept trying to push this.

“It’s  _ not, _ though!” he vehemently denied. “It’s not abuse! It’s just  _ discipline! _ ”

“By breaking your arm?” the taichō pressed the subject, not willing to let it go. “By calling you up and humiliating you, by causing you physical harm over and over again, by not even calling you by the correct name?”

“It’s just negative reinforcement whenever we do anything bad,” Ichigo argued, trying to get them to see his point of view on this. Plus, it wasn’t even  _ irreparable _ damage! “A Witches power isn’t to be taken lightly, so we have to be on guard at all times and in control of it, and hence our emotions as well; therefore, the discipline. Plus…” he sighed, searching for the right words no matter how much it hurt him. “My… mom gave me a different name outside of what the Clan would, so I was gifted a different name once I was inducted into the Clan.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to choose what name everyone calls you,” Unohana interjected suddenly. “Especially if it causes you discomfort being called a certain name.”

“I’m just…” Ichigo floundered for a moment, forcing himself to not curl up in his seat and instead face everyone and  _ convince _ them. Easier said than done. “It’s respect. To the Clan. If you represent them, then you need to do it  _ right. _ ”

“If you’re being repressed, then it’s not  _ worth _ representing!” Rukia exclaimed passionately, her fists clenched at her sides as she stared defiantly at Ichigo. “Isn’t that what you taught me?”

Ichigo was speechless for a moment. He blinked at her warily, eyes flitting around the room to see everyone else was just staring at him. Just  _ staring _ at him.

“It’s… different,” he choked out a lame excuse, not knowing how to put his feelings into words. “It just  _ is. _ ” It  _ had _ to be.

Nobody had a response to that for a while.

“Do you know why I chose  _ you _ to be the next Clan Head?” Nē-sama asked suddenly into the tense silence surrounding all of them. “ _ You _ specifically, who hadn’t gone through any training for this station previously? Who hates overwhelming authority, and who believes respect is  _ earned _ rather than  _ given? _ One who would rather throw tradition and hierarchy in the garbage to save a friend, or help anyone in need?”

“To be honest, yes,” Ichigo admitted wholeheartedly, relieved to have a change in subject, no matter how sudden it was. “There are a lot of others who’ve been groomed for this kind of position since birth; most of ‘em would give an arm and a leg for this. And pretty much all of ‘em are much more receptive to authority and that shit. So… why?”

“Change,” Obā-sama cut in wearily. “It’s time for change in this Clan. We’re not capable of bringing it ourselves—we’ve tried, believe me, brat. Punishing you to put forth an example to an unknown force who was possibly to become an enemy? That was instinct.” She sighed, very unlike her, showing weakness to anyone at all. “That instinct is not healthy, and it’s one that Shi has as well, albeit to a lesser extent than I and the other Elders.”

“I mean… sure, some of the punishments are kinda bad,” Ichigo fumbled with his words for a few moments, flustered and unsure of himself due to the amount of attention everyone in the room was still paying to him, “but… they all have some basis in reality. They’re all justifiable to some extent, especially seeing as the ones that cause irreparable harm are quickly done away with… it’s not…” It’s not  _ that, _ it’s not that stupid word they think it is! But seeing the sad and pitying expressions on everyone’s faces, he was  _ extremely _ uncertain about everything now. “… Right?”

“The Shinigami are right,” Nē-sama admitted regretfully. “This is abuse.”

Abuse.

She went on, saying other things and explaining everything, but Ichigo didn’t hear a word past  _ that _ one.

_ Abuse. _

But… they were only punished to learn to control their magic better! If they didn’t have such discipline, then… then they might  _ hurt  _ someone on accident! This was only to teach them control… and, after all, control had to apply to other areas, not simply control over their Sparks. Because the magic could slip through even with their Sparks under control, so they had to get their  _ emotions _ under control too! And what better way to do that than punish when their emotions got out-of-control? And when they didn’t obey when commands told them to control their emotions? And when—

A hand gripped his tightly, reassuringly, as he felt someone breathe slowly and rhythmically in front of him. Without realizing it, he desperately matched his breathing pattern to theirs, slowing down his gasping for air and hyperventilation, his head swimming and his brain hurting and his heart—

“Don’t think about anything,” someone told him softly. “Just focus on breathing. In… and out… in…”

When he finally calmed down enough to make his heart stop galloping around his chest like a frantic racehorse, he opened his eyes which he hadn’t noticed he had closed before. Ukitake was kneeling before him, looking at him with calm eyes. Before he could register the rest of the room, he was tugged into a hug by the taichō, causing him to slip off his chair and onto the floor with the other, but he didn’t really care as he gripped the white-haired Shinigami tightly.

“It’s not—ab… abuse,” Ichigo choked out desperately, trying one more time to keep his world from flipping upside down, “right?”

The silence responding him was telling.

And, in the warm arms of an ally-and-maybe-friend, he buried his head into the others shoulder and cried.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Feel free to leave a kudos, a comment, or both!


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